


Parallel Purpose

by Din_Harlow



Category: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Death, Fighting, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Mentions of Death, Time Travel, somewhat dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-01 20:34:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19185070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Din_Harlow/pseuds/Din_Harlow
Summary: The whole world crumbled around him as Twilight came to an understanding of exactly what had taken place and what he had done. He stared, seeing but unseeing, at the Hylian still kneeling on the ground a few steps away from him.His mentor and ancestor.Their leader and protector.What had he done?





	1. Number 29

He didn’t know how long he'd been here. Ever since he’d woken up, nine days ago, he’d been kept within this dark and dreary dungeon. The only sounds were the constant dripping of water, ominously echoing and bouncing from the stone walls, the metal screeching of the main dungeon and cell doors, and the mumbling and agonized moaning of other captives.

He knew, deep down, that something terrible was taking place. Wherever he was, it was a dangerous place. It made him restless and fearful of what he might find above.

The light didn't touch where he sat. He could see it, through the cracks and holes of the crumbling walls, but he couldn't touch or bask in its warmth.

He dearly wished to. Being locked in a cage with little room to move, he felt claustrophobic and constricted. Like a wild animal being detained for the safety of others. They had a chain around his neck, attached to the decrepit stone behind him and manacles on his wrists. He felt trapped.

The walls would often close in on him and it became difficult to breath at times.

Where was he?

He didn’t know.

It was a fortress of some kind. This conclusion he had drawn from what little he could see of the outside world just beyond his reach.

He yearned to be set free. To discover where he was and how he’d ended up here.

Where were the others? Were they searching for him? Had they also been taken captive? If so, why were they not near him? Why could he not sense them?

He was at a loss.

He drew his knees up to his chest and draped an arm across them. He hoped he would find answers soon. He couldn't even recall his last memory. Nothing came to mind of what could have transpired to lead him to this point.

Prisoners would come and go, being precariously picked out by some dignified and authoritative man wearing expensive clothing and lavished robes. The panic and sheer terror that would cross their- the prisoners’- faces were something he would never forget and a dark feeling of foreboding and apprehension settled in the pit of his stomach.

What were they so afraid of?

Those who left...those unfortunate enough to be chosen…

He never saw them again. Their cells would then be used for new cattle- for that was what they were referred as. Sheep being led to the slaughter, he’d often heard the others grieve. They were given no choice.

_They were used for sport,_ they would say. What kind of sport, they never specified. He was left to wallow in a sea of unknowing and uncertainty. Did he want to know what was outside? Did he want to be chosen next?

They told him to stay silent and still. To never speak, move, or react. They warned him against catching their eye. They advised him- desperate and fearful- to stay within the shadows in order to be overlooked.

_The Champion will slay you if the beasts don’t,_ Their haunted words echoed in his ears, never leaving his mind. _They don’t grant mercy to anyone._

_A quick and painless death is the very least one could hope for here,_ they would tell him. Unless one was strong enough to rise to the top and replace the Old Champion as the New Champion of the Avaricious King.

And so he remained, still, silent, and idle.

So far, it had proven fruitful. No one looked to him twice- if ever they did. He had the feeling he needed to maintain this behavior for as long as possible- to elongate his chances of survival. Give the others time to find him and break him out of whatever place he was in.

_Survival of the fittest,_ they described it. Each of them- those he had seen and had the pleasure of meeting- had the eyes of a killer.

_It’s kill or be killed._

How had he ended up here? In this dark land that thrived on bloodshed and merciless slaughtering? Where the civilians and those ill-fated to have been picked off the streets lived in a constant state of fear and terror?

_There are no rules. No restrictions. No liberties._

No one would say what happened to the others. What became of them. It made him tense. He wondered what wretched and awful fate awaited him.  

He sensed his time coming. Soon, he would be Chosen. He would be let loose and guided to the place above.

_Show no mercy, for you will be given none. Only execute justice or they will grant it to you._

What were they preparing him for? What horrors had they faced that he would one day be forced to confront?

_There is no hesitation. Your life means nothing to them. You must fight in order to endure._

Why did they work so hard to protect him? A stranger they knew nothing of? He saw it in their eyes. Compassion, dismay, protection, and denial. Fear, anguish, grief, pain. They would spare him if they could.

What was this place?  

_This is not Hyrule,_ they informed him when he’d voiced the question. _You are in a darker, and much more vile land. A land so corrupt the very air you breathe is tainted._

He smelled it.

The amount of blood spilled every second of the day. It filled his senses- choked and suffocated him.

The powerful and extremely potent scent of death and decay. It made him queasy. He was in a constant nauseated state from the sickening smell that pervaded his senses.

He sensed it.

The desperation, endless misery, wretchedness and affliction.

What was causing it? All these stifling and conflicting emotions? All this pain and devastation that hung thickly in the air?

He found he didn’t want to know.

_I pray you are not taken,_ a woman who once occupied the cell beside him whispered on a somber night. _I don’t want you to be slain like my brother and friend before me._

Slain? By whom? He yearned to ask but bit his tongue. The woman was still young yet. Perhaps her mid-twenties.

_"My name is Hera,”_ She once told him in an offhand manner. _“Here,”_ She’d scowled at the dungeon around them, _“They call me Number 27.”_

_"Number 29,”_ He’d answered her, voice raspy from disuse.

She looked sorrowful, dark lavender eyes dimming at the name he’d given her.

_"Well,”_ She declared, a fire blazing in those pools of violet, _“I shan’t call you by that miserable title.”_

He’d managed a faint grin, dehydration and hunger having severely weakened him. He was dirty and filthy from being unable to bathe regularly or care for himself. His clothing was stained, hair nothing more than a disheveled mess. He felt disgusting. Dirt and grime clung to his skin, a faint powdering of dust darkening his complexion. If he scrubbed at it, he made it worse, and so, he left it untouched.

**_~~~~~~_ **

_“I hereby proclaim you Altair,”_

_“Altair…” He tried, the name strange on his tongue. The meaning wasn't lost to him and he gave the spunky woman an odd look._

_Number 27- or Hera, as she preferred to be called- shrugged nonchalantly, a knowing gleam in her dark and mysterious eyes, “You come from a land of light.”_

_He steeled himself from correcting her._

_“You bring hope with you. Your spirit blazes from within with a strength and courage even I can’t deny. And_ _I'_ _m known for my spontaneity and exiguous attention span.”_

_He subconsciously touched his left hand at her words. The Triforce never once shone in this abysmal place. He wondered what would happen to him if it did. Would the rulers of this land recognize the insignia? Would they know what it was? Of its importance?_

_"You remind me of someone I met a couple of months ago. Before I was bound and taken.”_

_The weary and cold Hero hummed curiously, beckoning for her to continue._

_Hera did._

_“I call him Aelios.” She began, leaning back against the cool stones behind her. Her thick, brown hair slipped past her shoulders, kissing the ground beneath her. “The Sun is a rare sight for those in this accursed land. The sky is overcast by roiling clouds bearing nothing more than rain and thunder. An omen, many claim. I tend to agree.”_

_She exhaled deeply, a soft smile on her lips, “The day you were brought in, the clouds parted and the sun shone so beautifully upon the land, basking us in an ocean of the warmest light. Many claim it to be a sign and cling to the sliver of hope that these times of darkness and brutality may soon come to an end. The Avaricious King’s tale must finally have reached its conclusion.”_

_The hint of a grin grew on the Hylian’s face. These titles…_

_“We pray that it has.” She sighed quietly, shrugging mostly to herself. “We shall see, I suppose. But, as I was saying, a couple of months ago, I ran into some trouble with a few wolves.”_

_She must have known what he was thinking, for she rounded on him and jabbed a finger at him, “Mind you, they were the biggest and baddest wolves I have ever laid eyes on!”_

_He smothered a snicker and Hera playfully glared at him. She never truly did take offense._

_“These ones were tainted- changed somehow.” Her frown steepened, her mild expression morphing into a troubled and thoughtful one. She was an outspoken woman who did nothing to hide her thoughts or feelings. She freely expressed her emotions for all to see without shame or dishonor. It was what drew him to her. Her honesty and truthfulness to herself._

_Not to mention there was some kind of eerie familiarity he felt towards her. He knew her face and those eyes from somewhere, but he could not recall from where. Her name also struck him as one he should know._

_“Normally, I would've been able to handle them. I am quite skilled with a sword.” She gave a sad smile, “One has to be if they are ill-starred to be born in this terrible place. The way of the sword is common-knowledge here. Most only know the basics in order to survive, but others hone their skills for fear of being killed. A wise decision on their part.”_

_This country was truly dreadful place. From what little he’d gleaned from the others, there was next to no kindness. No hope. No light of any kind. The dismal weather reflected this fact._

_"You never know when you might be next. It is of no surprise when people go missing. Reports have ceased to be given. No one searches for those who are lost, for we know of the doom that will befall them.”_

_The Hero’s heart was swollen with sorrow and compassion. The bitterness of Hera’s tone was not lost to him either._

_“Children are often snatched.”_

_Hylia’s Grace, children too? He had lived through that terrifying experience once and swore never to allow it to happen again. For as long as he lived, he would protect them until his dying breath._

_“Mothers grieve and Fathers mourn, but soon, they join alongside their children to meet their Maker.”_

_How could such an atrocity and tragedy exist? This land was devoid of happiness. It was torn from its people so ruthlessly._

_"Those wolves I was attacked by? I nicked one- and when I say nicked, I mean I skewered it!” She told him, making a stabbing motion with her hand. It was precise and done with practiced ease, confirming her previous claims of being an accomplished swords-woman. “It hardly reacted! It merely tore itself from the blade and lashed out! I ripped my sword back and noted that its blood was tinged with blackness.”_

_The Hylian started faintly._

_“Poison was my first thought, but I have never come across a poison that gave beasts such undeniable strength and vigor. They were fierce and far stronger than measly wolves should be.”_

_So...Dark Link has affected this land also._

_Cobalt blues drifted shut. Where was the surprise?_

_“They were infected by something, that much is sure,” Hera continued, oblivious to his reaction. The woman folded her arms across her chest._

_The Hero took the time to study her. She wore a red, gold, and brown outfit that complemented her hair in a way he knew would be a cause of envy for Warrior. There was some purple here and there to bring out her eyes. She wore a headband bearing an unfamiliar insignia and golden earrings with loose gems on ringlets that glinted in the little light available._

_She had a strong build. Much like Malon. He couldn’t help but wonder what she used to do for a living. If he were to wager a guess, he would say she was either a farmer or a rancher. There was a strength to her he could not deny- and he didn’t mean singularly physical._

_She was friendly and open, taking him under her wing._

_“There were five of them. I thought I would die for sure.” She bent her legs and settled against the bars separating her from the Hero. “There was no way I could handle them! I thought my life had ended! I saw it flash before my eyes as one of the beasts lunged at me. Then, out of the blue, this Hylian comes swooping in and deals them a devastating blow. His hair was what caught my eye. It was golden.” She looked to the Hylian beside her, “In this land, there are none born with golden or fair hair. Everywhere you look, there is a swarm of brunettes to be found. Fitting, isn’t it?”_

_She flicked her hair to prove her point._

_"Any who inherit such colour are stealthily disposed of.”_

_The Hero jerked his head up, brows drawn together in shocked disbelief._

_Hera somberly nodded, “Aye. Proclamations that they fell gravely ill or an unfortunate accident transpired are spread. It is fruitless. There are none who don’t know the morbid truth. They fear those with fair hair.”_

_He supposed he should consider himself grateful for not having been blessed with the blonde or golden hair of his predecessors._

_“But this Hylian...He won the favour of the King,” Hera murmured, tapping her chin. “He was scheduled to be executed- nearly was- but something stopped the King. His advisors feared to lay a hand on him, for he wasn’t from our Kingdom. No, he hailed from Hyrule. From what little I have garnered, he is of great import. Should anything have happened to him that could be deemed suspicious or an ‘accident,’ as they are fond of saying, war would undoubtedly be waged, and our Kingdom is weaker compared to the might and valor of Hyrule.”_

_Where were they?_

_"He fights for the King.” Hera scowled, displeasure dripping from her voice, “If ever a problem arises, say a revolt or uproar of some kind, he is sent to deal with it. I can’t say much against him, however, for he did save my life, but that doesn’t mean I can accept all he has done in the name of the King.”_

_“You call him Aelios.”_

_"Yes,” Hera dipped her chin in affirmation, “His hair reminded me of the Sun. It shines brilliantly in these dark lands and can be seen from a great distance. A welcome contrast to the blacks and greys that paint the landscapes.”_

_“He stays. For what, I have yet to discover.” Hera folded her arms behind her head to cushion it against the uncomfortable stone wall, “There must be a reason.”_

_“Perhaps, one day, you will learn it.”_

_The flicker of a smile graced her lips,_

 

_“If I live long enough.”_


	2. A Grim Tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hera and Altair's time as cellmates is cut short.

Hera’s stalwart and unwavering presence soothed him greatly. It encased him warmly, like a thick, insulated, blanket. She was strong and passionate, bearing herself with a confidence that was to be noted and admired. When she stood or sat, her back and shoulders were straight and her chin lifted in a manner that reminded him of his ever so diplomatic Zelda. 

She wasn't as refined or of noble birth, but he respected her all the same. She was knowledgeable and brave. She possessed a wicked streak of humor and a sharp tongue. She was honest- sometimes brutally so, but he found he appreciated her truthfulness.

The woman, he later discovered, was 24 years of age. Three years older than himself.

Perhaps that was why the bond between them had grown so powerful and strong. That, and they were cellmates who only had each other. Hera spoke to him often, forcing him to eat what meager scraps they were fed.

"When you are Chosen,” She said to him as they made themselves to swallow the bitter and revolting food they'd been given with great reluctance, “It is said they hold a Feast in your honor.” She turned to face him knowingly. She adopted a stern look and stressed to him, “Do  _ not  _ fall for the false kindness or sense of hospitality. It is a trick. An underhanded and most loathsome kind of deceit they could ever offer! Many fall susceptible to the sight of the delightful food littering the Grand Halls of the King and lining the long tables. They give into their hunger and yearning for a good meal they stuff themselves full.” Worry creased her brow.

The Hylian listened closely to her. His gaze slid to the corner of his eye, keeping her in his sights and he almost gagged when he took another bite of whatever scrap of food he held.

He might end up dying from food poisoning if he wasn’t Chosen. He supposed that would be the lesser of two evils. Oh, how he missed Wild’s astounding cooking! He would never take his Cub’s meals for granted again!

A condescending and bitter bark of laughter broke loose from Hera’s lips, interrupting his thoughts. She shook her head, her long brown mane swaying with the movement,

“Then, once they are finished, they are delivered to the Arena.”

“Arena?” He questioned in a low tone.

The young woman gestured with her hand towards the deteriorating wall across them, baring her teeth, 

“You’ve probably already realized we are in a Fortress. This grand building surrounds the Arena. It was built to provide the King and the Royal Family with entertainment. Long ago, it was nothing more than chariot rides, horse races, jousting and mock battles but now… It's grown much darker and more sinister. The intentions of the King have grown diabolical. Only the strongest survive here.”

She suddenly slammed her fist against bars, startling the Hero and taking him aback by the pure rage and outright loathing he could see twisting her features and blazing brilliantly in her passionate eyes.

“He is  **_despicable!_ ** That man!” She spat out with hatred dripping from her scathing tone. “This desolate land is so full of hopeless, misery, and woe! Nothing but melancholy! The very atmosphere is funereal! So morbid, harsh, and mournful! He is oppressive and distrustful! We pay for his paranoia!”

Her canines, sharper than any Hylian or Humans other than his own, flashed dangerously.

“If it were in my power, I would have him destroyed! I would have gladly ripped him apart! Torn him piece by piece then rebuilt him into a brand new masterpiece! A warning to any other authoritarian tyrant!”

The Hero cautiously leaned away from her. A shudder ran down his spine. Hera's body trembled, her fists tightly clenched together and nails digging into her skin, breaking it and drawing blood.

He reached through the bars and placed one of his own atop hers, “You are only hurting yourself,” He said to her, gentle and concerned, “Your hatred will blind you if you continue down this path.”

Hera blinked then turned her head towards him. The elegiac look in her eyes tore at his heart to see. He smiled wanly in return, understanding glimmering in his own cobalt pools of blue.

"You want to save this Kingdom, transform it from the state that it is in, and that is commendable.” He murmured, gripping her hand, “But your own intentions must be pure, otherwise, it would all be for naught.”

Pained and stricken, Hera moved her face away, ashamed by her outburst and fury. She knew he was right. His words struck a chord in her heart and sunk deep into her mind.

Silence fell between them, filled only by the ominous dripping of water until Hera’s quiet and morose voice remarked,

“You speak as if you’ve had experience.”

The Hero grinned faintly, the gesture tinged by sorrow and wistfulness.

“I knew another who allowed their passions and want for revenge to overrule their senses.” He admitted, a dull ache in his chest. “They grew in both character and spirit during the duration of our journey together. In the end, they had the strength and courage to do what I could not. They knew it was for the best, no matter how much my mind and heart warred against it.”

“They left, huh.”

“How did you know?” 

Hera sighed and leaned against the bars, curling her fingers around Altair’s. “I know how it feels to be left behind.”

Nothing more was said for the remainder of that night.

**~~~~~~~**

“Do you think your friends are looking for you?”

“I know they are.”

Hera smiled softly. It was remarkable, the unwavering faith he had in his companions. She’d been told a few stories of his adventures and of his friends. She used the term “friends” loosely, for when she watched him speak of them, she knew the word simply didn’t fit. It didn’t engulf the way his eyes would brighten or how a gentle smile would often rise from simply telling her a few tales of their misadventures.

Especially when he referred to the ones he called  _ Time _ and  _ Wild. _ Odd names, that was for certain, but Hera had heard stranger ones.

“Wild teased me often for the nickname Time had given me.”

“Oh?” Hera inclined her head, intrigued, “And what name was that?”

“Pup.”

Hera thought on it, then snorted. Gales of pure laughter filled the air, lighting the dark and heavy atmosphere hanging o’er them.

The Hero she’d dubbed Altair shot her a look of unappreciation. His eyes, however, sparkled, letting her know he hadn’t truly minded.

“I don’t know why, but I know for a certainty that it fits you.”

Altair grumbled good-naturedly. A wicked grin aligned his lips and he smirked as he spoke of his revenge.

“One day, it came to me. A way to get after him, but then again, I don’t truly count it. The entire time we’d traveled together, I’d taken to calling him by that name in my mind. Never aloud. I wasn’t sure how he would take it...But there was a moment where it slipped out and it stuck.”

Hera shifted to make herself comfortable- a feat rendered near impossible given the fact that they were in a cold and dreary dungeon. It lacked any sense of comfort.

“What did you call him?” 

“Cub.”

Hera cooed at the endearing name.

“The three of you must be close.”

It wasn't lost to the Hylian how she’d spoken in present tense and not past tense. He’d learned quickly to read deeper into the young woman’s words and intonations. There was more to what she said than many would realize.

She believed the Links would find him also. She knew he would live.

Why she was so confident and adamant in that fact was beyond him.

“We are,” He murmured, nostalgia creeping into his tone, “We all are. The three of us more so due to the fact that we are blood-related, but it doesn’t make the others any less.” 

“I understand,” Hera nodded sagely, uncharacteristically grave and somber. “My brother’s friend and I, we became close. My brother and I were often found in one another’s presence. Where one went, the other was sure to follow. We were twins. We knew one another better than anyone else. We understood one another. When my brother’s friend came along, we traveled alongside one another and soon, he became like another brother to me.”

Yes. The other Heroes had grown on him much the same way.

“Someone will find you.”

He looked to her, catching the conviction in her words. Hera graced him with a kind, believing, smile. Her eyes were soft, a knowing look gleaming within them.

“I learned long ago to believe in the impossible.”

Altair inclined his head, dark strands of hair falling into his eyes, “What do you mean?”

Hera glanced away with a smirk. She leaned back against the cool stone, folding her arms across her chest almost smugly, “Your eyes. Your face. They tell more than you realize.”

Altair’s brows drew together, a faint crease appearing on his forehead.

“What do they tell?”

Hera shrugged, and Altair’s expression fell flat.

“Alright, alright,” He grumbled, “Keep your secrets.”

Hera quirked an eyebrow, gaze sliding towards him in a sly manner, “I’m not the only one enshrouded in secrets, mister.”

Altair wisely chose to say nothing.

Hera barked out a laugh and the flicker of a smile dashed across Altair’s lips. It wasn’t long before he was chuckling along with her.

Hera swiped an imaginary tear from her eye, still smiling as their fit of mirth gradually died down.

“You truly are a blessing, Altair,” She murmured with a sigh. “I haven’t laughed so hard since my friend and brother passed on from this life.”

A pang of sorrow and empathy for Hera caused Altair’s heart to throb.

“Were they taken also?”

Hera nodded with a sad countenance, “The idiots went out late one night. Never came home. I knew what became of them the next day when they never returned.”

Altair couldn’t imagine what that must have been like. Waiting for loved ones to come home and knowing the very next day that they would never see them again…

Looking to Hera, Altair marveled at her strength and valor. She was strong and fierce. An undying fire blazed within her, never to be extinguished despite the hardships she suffered and would undoubtedly continue to face.

He was about to speak- to say something- when the heavy metal door of the dank and dark dungeon flew open, slamming against the crumbling stone wall. The sound it created echoed throughout the area and both Hera and Altair tensed.

It was time.

“Twenty-four failed…” Altair’s ear twitched at Hera’s grieved whisper. “They have come to choose another.”

Altair’s heart thumped once against his chest.

There were only three of them left.

Hera, 32, and himself.

Evidently, the same thought crossed Hera’s mind. She turned to him, bearing a look that Altair did not like.

His stomach twisted and churned uneasily, his wolf senses tingling.

“Hera-”

He was interrupted by the woman twisting to kneel before the bars separating them, reaching through the bars and framing his face.

“Promise me that you will live, Altair.”

The loud clopping of footsteps marching down the corridor bounced off the walls as the Keepers strode closer to where their cells lay.

Altair’s heart pounded, his mind protesting vehemently and he made to dissuade Hera from her mad and foolish plan of protecting him but she cut him off by pulling him close and hugging him as best she could.

“I don’t want you to suffer as we have.” Hera whispered fiercely to him, tightening her hold, “You are undeserving of such a cruel and twisted fate. If I can spare you, I will! And I pray you will be saved!”

“Hera-” Altair made to object. He was a warrior. He could face this Champion knowing he had a greater chance at succeeding than the other prisoners had. He refused to let this woman go- to die in his stead.

“It’s alright,  _ telyo-ir. _ ” Hera murmured soothingly, kissing the crown of his head. “Promise me you will live.”

Altair drew back, gripping Hera’s forearms.

“Don’t do it, Hera-”

Hera smiled grimly, pained and sorrowful.

“Don’t you worry about me, Altair,” She traced his features, as if imbuing them in her mind then ruffled his hair. “I have lived long enough in this terrible land and seen many unspeakable horrors. I would not have you suffer as I have.”

Altair knew. He understood.

But he refused.

The footsteps grew in volume, voices discussing with one another beginning to sound.

Their time was limited.

“These cells up here contain the remaining cattle, Lord Kafei,”

Altair subconsciously snarled at the demeaning name. His wolf-self bristled and growled dangerously. Hera gripped his arm tightly. A warning.

“Please, Altair,” She whispered to him, lavender eyes darting off to the side past his shoulder. His back was turned against where the Lord and his entourage would come and he knew Hera was purposefully keeping him from facing them. “I don’t know why, but you  _ must _ live. For the sake of this kingdom and for your sake.” She looked him in the eye, driving her point home.

Altair was given no time to answer.

The dignitaries had arrived.


	3. Lord Kafei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twilight learns the horrific tale behind his mentor's scarred eye.

* * *

 Hera had done exactly as Twilight knew she would. She had caught their attention. It was unanimously decided among the dignitaries that she would be the one Chosen.  
  
Lord Kafei, the cloaked, tall and proud figure accompanying them, remained a silent observer as two guards stepped into Hera’s cell and took hold of the woman.  
  
They were taking her.

They were taking Hera. 

This was exactly what she wanted, but he wouldn't accept it. 

Twilight fought against the chains binding him to the wall, tugging and pulling with all his might that the stone groaned. 

The dignitaries marveled at his strength. 

Twilight snarled, a vicious growl tearing from his throat that sounded far too bestial to be human. The manacles dug into his wrist, the chain around his neck cutting his supply of air, but he didn’t care. 

All that mattered was protecting Hera. 

"Altair!" Hera hissed in a vain attempt to calm him, her lavender eyes pleading for him to settle. But Twilight wouldn't. He refused to allow her to sacrifice herself for him. 

One of the chains snapped, the stone breaking along with it. 

"Amazing!" One of the dignitaries breathed. This only fueled Twilight's growing ire. Hatred burned in his eyes. They should be afraid. 

They should be sorely afraid.  
  
Hera stood between the guards, worry creasing her brow and mouthing fervently for Twilight to stop. He was drawing attention to himself, and she knew without a doubt the Dignitaries would choose to bring him to the arena.  
  
Neither of them noticed the close attention Lord Kafei paid to Twilight. The intensity of his stare caused the hair on Twilight’s neck to rise, and his inner wolf bristled. He bared his teeth at the Lord, uncaring of the disrespect. The man’s face was hidden by the shadow cast by his hood, but had Twilight been paying attention, he would have noticed how eerily familiar this supposed “Lord Kafei” was. 

"Perhaps we shall take Number 29 instead." 

The dreaded words Hera knew were forthcoming were uttered. Her heart dropped. 

"No!" She stomped the heel of her boot unforgivingly down on the foot of the Ambassador. 

He yelped sharply, another striking Hera with the back of his hand. 

That was enough for Twilight. 

He broke free from his chains and lunged. 

The dignitaries released startled cries mingled with alarm when the cell door was promptly broken off of its hinges. Any resistance the metal might have given was futile. 

Hera’s eyes grew wide at the display of physical prowess the one she called Altair  had shown. She’d known he was strong, but this strong? 

Dismay settled as a leaden weight on her chest. Her efforts had been in vain. Altair would be sent straight for the Arena. He would experience first-hand the horrors this land had to offer and there was nothing she could do. 

The Dignitaries took a step back with slight fear when Number 29 moved forward in a manner that resembled a predator approaching its prey. 

It was then Lord Kafei moved. With agility and remarkable speed, the tall and cloaked Lord shot behind the Ordonian and immediately wrapped his arms around the furious Ordonian in an unrelenting hold. 

Twilight growled, his eyes flashing as he twisted in Lord Kafei’s strong grip. The vice-like hold did little to restrain him. 

Lord Kafei grunted when Twilight drew his elbow back, sharply nailing him in the ribs. 

The guards released Hera, starting forward as if to lend a hand but Lord Kafei gave them a sharp look. 

The message was clear. 

**_Don’t interfere._ **

They fell back, flanking Hera who was too stunned to move. All she could do was watch as Lord Kafei attempted to wrestle the seething Ordonian. 

The Ambassador of the Avaricious King determined it was no longer safe for them to linger. Not with this wild creature Lord Kafei was currently struggling with. 

The Ambassador had to admit that he was impressed. For Lord Kafei to struggle spoke a great deal on behalf of Number 29. Of his strength and skill. 

But most importantly, of his potential. Perhaps…He would be the one to rise in the ranks and take down the Champion. 

Should this happen… The Ambassador would appeal himself to the King. There was a good chance he would climb the social ladder and become a step closer to his end goal. 

Yes… He nodded solemnly to himself, a faint grin lining his lips. Noting the fire blazing in those cobalt eyes, the Ambassador knew just what he needed to do in order to provoke it. He turned to the other lesser Lords and the Guards that had taken Number 27. 

Number 29 appeared quite close and protective of Number 27. He would go to any lengths to secure her safety and well-being. 

“We are running late.” He told them in a cool tone, “Lord Kafei will handle this impudent child. Let us take Number 27 up above. The Arena awaits.” 

Upon hearing these words, and catching sight of Hera willingly allowing herself to be led away, Twilight doubled his efforts. 

Why were they taking Hera and not _him?_

Lord Kafei caught him by the back of his tunic and yanked. Unbalanced, Twilight was forced to stumble in order to recover himself. 

“You are doing yourself no favors, kid!” Lord Kafei said between gritted teeth as the Dignitaries disappeared with Hera and the guards. 

Twilight viciously dragged the back of his heel along Lord Kafei’s shin in retort. 

He knew from experience that that _hurt._

The lessons his Cub had taught him were not so easily forgotten. 

It proved effective. 

Lord Kafei’s grip loosened just enough for Twilight to slip free. He spun sharply on his heel, fist flying but it was blocked by Lord Kafei’s arm. 

Had his aim struck true, Lord Kafei would have been knocked unconscious. Both knew this. The Lord, however, had lightning quick reflexes that spoke of experience. 

“There is nothing you can do.” Lord Kafei calmly told him and Twilight fixed him with a glare. 

In the distant corners of his mind, Twilight couldn’t help but wonder at his voice. 

Twilight wasn’t sure why. It struck him as familiar and yet...unfamiliar. A strong sense of déjà vu overcame him. He should know it, but he didn’t. 

“Whatever you hope to accomplish won’t happen.” 

Twilight’s eyes narrowed, the corner of his lips curling back. 

“You’re a Hylian. You don’t belong here.” 

_Astute observation,_ Twilight sarcastically thought to himself, ripping his arm free of the other’s hold. Lord Kafei didn’t appear at all bothered. 

In the distance, he heard the main Dungeon door slam shut and another open. 

His wolf senses suddenly shrieked in warning. 

Twilight cursed himself for this brief distraction and wheezed when Lord Kafei delivered a powerful blow. He staggered back, eyes marginally wide. 

He keeled over, his hand tightly clutching at his side and the other bracing him against the wall. 

This Lord was no ordinary Lord. He fought with the grace and agility of an experienced warrior and used underhanded techniques when he deemed it acceptable. Twilight had committed such acts before, but only if the need was great. 

Twilight tried to swallow but only coughed. Lord Kafei had caught him in the diaphragm. He felt the muscles contracting, making it difficult to breathe. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, slowly bringing himself to kneel on the cool stone ground. 

He could not fail. 

He could not allow Hera to meet such a devastating fate. 

A remorseful sigh was released by Lord Kafei as the cloaked man took a step towards him, 

"You gave me no choice, young one," He came closer and Twilight turned his face away, a smile that bode ill will growing on his lips. 

His canines flashed in the light. 

Yes…

Just a little closer. 

He took a deep, quiet, breath and continued to feign injury, waiting as Lord Kafei drew unsuspectingly near. It had hurt, but Twilight recovered quickly. 

He hitched his breath and caught sight of Lord Kafei in the corner of his eye, leaning down with a hand outstretched. 

But Twilight only had eyes for the dagger strapped on his belt. 

"This was not how-" Lord Kafei was cut off when Twilight suddenly spun around and unsheathed the dagger with remarkable speed. 

Twilight didn't give him a moment to recover. He twisted the hilt and swiped at Lord Kafei's unprotected face, his aim striking straight and true. 

The sound of metal tearing into flesh resonated through the corridors accompanied by a startled and agonized cry as Lord Kafei staggered back, hands flying to cover his right eye as indescribable and unadulterated pain twisted his features. 

He crumpled to the ground and it was only then Twilight realized…

The instant the hood fell back, a curtain of long, golden-blonde, hair fell loose and a familiar face was revealed. 

Teeth grit together in agony, blood seeping between fingers and staining the fabric of his clothing...

Lord Kafei's single, good, eye opened with great effort and settled on Twilight, swimming with excruciating pain. 

One eye…

The other scarred and ruined forever. 

One eye. 

The scar none knew the tale behind. 

One eye. 

A story behind the scar he never shared with the others for reasons only he knew.  
  
And now, Twilight understood.

This was no ordinary Hylian. This was no Lord Kafei. 

This was- 

* * *

 

Twilight stumbled back and released a shuddery breath. Abject horror and dismay wreaked havoc upon his soul. 

“Time…” 

The whole world crumbled around him as Twilight came to an understanding of exactly what had taken place and what he had done. He stared, seeing but unseeing, at the Hylian still kneeling on the ground a few steps away from him. 

His mentor and ancestor. 

Their leader and protector. 

What had he done? 

The golden-haired Hylian had a hand pressed firmly against his ruined eye, the other still latched onto Twilight and so full of agony that it made the Ordonian feel completely wretched and sick with guilt, remorse, and absolute horror. 

Twilight’s horror struck gaze slowly settled on the bloodied dagger still clutched in his hand. The quiet plops of crimson drops echoed loudly in his suddenly overly sensitive ears. His wolf self withered and died within, curling tightly within itself and howling mournfully. It expressed all Twilight was unable to. He still could not fathom it. 

His grip on the hilt loosened until the blade slipped from his hold and clattered onto the stone ground awaiting it. 

Twilight fell back against the wall, the harsh reality just barely sinking deep into his mind and tearing his heart apart from within. He turned his face away, unable to bear looking at the suffering Hylian. 

He should have known. 

He should have seen. 

He should have sensed. 

But Twilight had allowed his anger and want to protect Hera get the better of him, and now, it was not him that suffered the repercussions, but his ancestor. 

The Hylian he looked up to and who’d taught him so much. 

Dazed, mind still reeling, Twilight had to fight not to become physically ill. 

It was Twilight’s voice, unsteady but miraculously still strong, that broke the still, tense, silence that had been previously filled by this younger Time’s excruciation. 

“I will go to the Arena.” 

Time, whose face was absent of any markings and hair longer than Twilight had ever seen, swiveled his head round, his one good eye wide with denial,   
  
“No-” He began to plead, reaching out with his free hand, but Twilight struck it aside. The Ordonian spun around to face him, very nearly snarling with his fists tightly clenched, 

“I will go.” He declared with finality, tone brooking no argument. Then he crumpled and knelt before the Hylian who had taken him under his wing years from now. He bowed his head, silently begging his forgiveness though he knew he was undeserving of it, “Bring me there.” 

He met Time’s one, good, eye. It was his fault. 

Twilight knew this now. 

He’d been the one to inflict this upon Time. It was no monster, no enemy, but Time’s very own descendant. One belonging to his very own bloodline who’d done this to him. 

And Time had known.

This fact made Twilight severely ill and nauseous. How could he ever face Time when he should return? How could he look him in the eye, knowing what he’d done? 

How could Time face him? Time never once held it against him in the future. Time had known, but he’d still accepted Twilight as his own. He kept the secrets behind his scar to himself. 

“I will fight.” Twilight whispered with solemnity, and he sensed the internal war inflicting Time. He hated it. Even after what he’d done, Time wanted to refuse him. Wanted to keep him safe and far away from the Arena. 

There was silence. 

It was broken by the sound of the dungeon door reopening. Twilight stood in a mechanical fashion and didn’t look when Time forced himself to his feet, hiding his ruined eye from view. 

Twilight’s ears lowered, guilt settling as a leaden weight upon his chest. It would never be alleviated. 

His kind smiles, the slight grins and playful smirks Time would direct Twilight’s way in the future…His pride and subtle compliments. His silent encouragements. 

Twilight swallowed thickly. 

“I can’t bring you to the Arena.” Time, under the guise of Lord Kafei, whispered. Twilight didn’t miss the undertone of pain laced in his words as he spoke. It hurt him to hear. Like a multitude of knives stabbing viciously into his heart, twisting and sinking deeper. “I can’t allow you to willingly walk to your death. You do not know the horrors of this land. The very ground is sullied and stained by blood spilt every hour-” 

Twilight couldn’t understand the Hylian’s want to protect him. To shield him. Perhaps because he, himself, was Hylian born? 

"It won’t be my death this Kingdom will be celebrating,” Twilight found himself assuring the other, keeping his eyes fixed forward, “But the Champion’s.” 

That was a promise. 

“You must reconsider-”   
  
“What is there to reconsider?” Twilight finally looked to the Hylian. If he were to hazard a guess, he would have to say this Time was in his late twenties or so. One never knew with the Old Man. It was impossible to tell when he felt and often acted older than he most likely was. “The others weren’t given a chance. They had no opportunity to reconsider. All they were left with was to accept their fate. It will be no different for me.” 

When cobalt blue clashed with Twilight’s own, the Ordonian knew he had won. There was nothing Time could say or do to dissuade him from this decision. 

For Hera’s sake, and the sake of this Kingdom, Twilight had to try. He had to make things right. 

The other was torn.

Another difference Twilight came to recognize. This Time was more expressive than the one the Links fondly or teasingly dubbed ‘Pops.’ It was not all too noticeable, but to Twilight, whose eyes were sharper and senses far more honed- courtesy of housing the spirit of a wolf- he’d caught onto it. 

Time made to speak but three figures rounded the corner. Faster than Twilight could blink, Time was behind him, gripping his arm and twisting it behind him. 

Twilight winced when his shoulder protested. 

The Ambassador had returned. His dignified appearance and appalling robes were the first things Twilight spotted and he had to stifle the urge to remark on his questionable fashion tastes. 

The Ambassador came to an abrupt halt, the guards behind him not bothering to hide their shock. 

“Lord Kafei?” Incredulity marked the Ambassador’s tone. Twilight wanted to cringe. It was clear none of the three could believe Twilight had been capable of injuring the one they called Lord Kafei. 

Then again, it had been an underhanded and dishonorable technique Twilight had stooped low enough to commit. 

Time’s voice was cool and collected, an air of quiet authority behind his words as he addressed the Ambassador and the Guards, 

“I will be accompanying him to the Lower Levels. You will take a message to the King for me,” 

The Ambassador visibly swallowed. Twilight almost smiled. 

They feared Lord Kafei. 

Their unease around him was as clear as day to the Ordonian. 

“Of course, Lord Kafei, but the Lower Levels?” 

Twilight sensed Time narrowing his eye on the man, “If I didn't know better, Lord Ambassador, I would dare to say you were questioning my authority.” 

The Ambassador stepped back, hands raised and shaking his head, “I would never, Lord Kafei! I merely meant to say the Lower Levels are for-” 

Time cut him off, gripping Twilight’s other shoulder in an almost reassuring way, 

“I know very well what they are for, Lord Ambassador. You will go before the King and speak to him on my behalf. You will inform him that I wish to speak with him on a matter of the utmost importance. Do so, and I will vouch on your behalf.” 

Politics, Twilight very nearly sneered. His Zelda had attempted to teach him diplomatics, but Twilight could care less. If he were to become a Knight, however, and one chosen to guard the Queen, he would have to learn. 

This was why he very much preferred the simple life of Ordon Village. 

The Ambassador fell for the bait. Hook, line, and sinker. 

Twilight had never known Time to be so manipulative. He supposed one would have to be in this dreadful Kingdom. 

“But of course, Lord Kafei. We leave immediately.” The Ambassador gestured to the Guards and they turned to exit the dungeons at once. 

And they did so. 

Twilight was released as soon as they had gone and Time moved to stand in front of him, as serious as Twilight had ever seen him, 

"You do not know what you have gotten yourself into.” 

Twilight gave a sideways grin, but it lacked any warmth. Only bitterness. 

“It can’t be any worse than what I’ve already seen and done.” 

He was taken aback when the front of his tunic was gripped in an unrelenting fashion and he was drawn up close to Time, the Hylian scowling, 

“Be mindful of your words, impulsive one, for they may very well be your last.” And with that warning, he was released. Time- Twilight supposed he should call him by another name- appeared somewhat stunned by his own actions and he stepped back. “I apologize.” He smiled wanly, deceptively calm, “I claim you are the impulsive ones and yet I act on my own.” He winced when he opened his bloodied eye and raised a hand to cover it once more. 

Twilight wallowed in his guilt. Seeing Time cringe and wince in pain, agony flaring in his good eye every now and then, hurt him more than words could ever convey. 

He audibly swallowed and turned away. 

_You shouldn’t be the one apologizing,_ he wanted to say. But the words would be meaningless. They couldn’t right the wrongs. They couldn’t heal Time and Twilight wished he could do something. But he was helpless. 

Time noted his inability to look at him and softened, “This isn’t the worst scar I’ve gotten.” 

The memory slammed into him unbidden, of the time when the Heroes were seated around a fire, discussing scars and the stories behind them. Of Warrior’s burnt arm, Hyrule’s impalement by a shadow of his own likeness, Legend’s scar stretching from his wrist to his elbow, and Wild’s Guardian laser burns. 

It sickened him to know he was the one responsible for Time’s. 

“It doesn’t make it any better,” Twilight muttered, tugging his arm from Time’s hold and stalked forward a few steps. His reaction confused the Hylian, he knew, but how could he explain why it affected him so strongly? 

The scar that ran down his eye. 

Now Twilight knew the tale...

 

...for he had played the main part in it. 


End file.
